


hold me now, i need to feel you

by PrincezzShell101



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, DEFINITELY not a happy ending, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Tissue warning implied, be warned, death by magic, oh the angst, spell gone horribly wrong, sterek feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincezzShell101/pseuds/PrincezzShell101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek should have stopped him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me now, i need to feel you

**Author's Note:**

> (Title taken from Without You by Ashes Remain)
> 
> *TISSUE WARNING*

This wasn't meant to happen.  _Fuck_ , this  _wasn't meant to happen_. He had said he'd be okay, said he'd be  _capable_ of using that much magic without any likelihoods of danger. Knowing the hazards himself, Derek should have stopped the boy. But no, he hadn't.  _Why_ hadn't he?  _WHY_ _?_

The nightly wind is crisp and chill, like an icy cold bullet that sweeps through the trees and turns everything in its path into a shivering mess. Because of Derek's werewolf anatomy, he doesn't feel a thing—nothing but a slight nippy breeze. But Stiles, he  _can_ feel it. Completely. To Stiles, the wind feels like it's biting into his skin and freezing him from the inside out.

"C'mon Stiles, just a little more," Derek urges softly, hitching the boy's arm more securely over his shoulder. They're trekking up a steep hillside, Derek ambling gradually while supporting the weight of Stiles, who's leaning against him and limping each step, trembling and gasping like it takes up every single bit of his energy.

A few more steps later Derek feels the body against him sag, hears the shallow rasp of breaths that leave struggling lungs with each inhale and exhale.

"No, no,  _come on_. Stiles, we have to keep going." Derek tries to move another step, but Stiles just shakes his head, closing his eyes against another gust of wind that blows through him.

"I—I can't," he wheezes. "I can't."

"Yes you can," Derek says firmly, though his face gives away his true emotional state, which is  _far_  from what his voice is showing in the strength department. "You  _can_ , Stiles. I know you can."

Stiles shakes his head again, licking his lips. "No, n-no I can't," he mumbles, form swaying. "I'm done, Derek."

Derek has only but a short amount of time to catch the body falling forward, arms supporting Stiles's spine and hands cradling the back of his head. The weight is hefty, but Derek being a werewolf can handle it. He brushes his thumb gently through the hair at the back of the boy's skull. "We have to keep moving. Stiles, you can't give up."

Stiles's body shivers in Derek's arms as he coughs, another gust of wind ripping though him and numbing what's left of his strength. "Don't m-make me, Der. Please," he begs weakly. "Because I—I can't."

Derek, looking into Stiles's dim eyes, knows that the boy is telling the truth. The spell he'd done to destroy the nymph they'd been battling had drained enough of his life force to leave him with only an hour left to live.

That had been forty-five minutes ago.

Now there is barely twenty minutes left. Only a short amount of time until Derek will have to watch the love of his life, his  _mate_ , slowly wither away and die right in front of him. It isn't  _enough_ , damn it.  _Not enough time_.

"Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay." Derek presses a gentle brush of a kiss to Stiles's lips, rubbing his nose into the crook of the boy's neck. "I'll carry you."

"Y-You sure?" Stiles murmurs, voice a quiet whisper.

"Yes. I'm not leaving you here to d—" Derek bites his lip, clenches his eyes shut, wincing at what he'd been so close to saying. He won't voice it aloud, for the realism of the words will just tear him apart.

"You can say it, y-ya know." Stiles attempts a shrug, but his body is just too weak to even manage  _that_ , so it's practically only a twitch of his shoulders. "N-No harm in admitting the truth."

Derek refuses to say it. He  _can't_.

"No," he says, voice cracking. "I won't, because it's  _not_ the truth. You're not going to—"

"—die? Y-Yeah," a cough, "I am."

" _NO_!"

Derek's roar shocks  _himself_. He just can't contain his emotions anymore. They're just too agonising, wrapping themselves around his conscience and blinding his wolf's true nature of anger and rage, turning it into a beast that thrives off of nothing but pure  _terror_ and  _panic_.

He can feel Stiles jolt in his arms, not expecting the outburst either. "Derek d-don't, don't try and ignore what's inevitable," he whispers. "Because you  _know_ , you know it's going to happen and—"

When Stiles's voice dissipates into a tremor of coughs, Derek's eyes widen fearfully. He pulls the pulsating body in his arms closer to his chest, side of Stiles's head pressed over his heart. The coughs are utterly  _painful_  to hear, the more they grow, the more strangled and choked they become.

"Stiles,  _no_." He clutches the body tighter when the coughs rise in volume. He swears he feels something wet soak into his shirt, but is too afraid to look down and see what it is.

 _Blood_ , his mind tells him.  _It's blood and looking at it is going to make this harder than it already is, Derek_.

He can't help but agree with himself. Seeing the liquid essence that should be  _inside_ _Stiles_ _,_  running through the boy's veins, instead on his shirt, will just  _destroy_ _him_ _._

Eventually the coughs start to die down. Stiles's body is trembling and his breaths are shallow,  _too_ shallow.

Derek wastes no time in lifting the fragile boy up, securely in his arms, before starting to run at a full-speed sprint up the hillside. He will  _not_  let Stiles _die_ here.

"W-Wha're you doin'?" Stiles slurs, choking on another cough that racks through him.

"Carrying you," Derek replies, not letting the worrying air of Stiles's voice waver his strong, rapid footsteps.

He has to get Stiles up to the top of the hill. He  _has to_.

He wants the view of the town, the moon lit high in the sky,  _his face_ , to be the last things Stiles sees.

Call it selfish, but Derek will  _not_ let Stiles die looking at trees and forest and earth.

"O—kay," comes the soft, quiet reply.

When Derek manages to get him and Stiles to the top of the hill, the wind has already started to pick up heavily. He can feel the boy shaking fitfully and hissing breathlessly in his arms. The wind must be practically  _tearing_  through his flannel shirt.

"I'm going to put you down now, okay?" he says gently, and when he feels the small movement of Stiles nodding, he sits down carefully, making sure Stiles is positioned comfortably in his lap. As soon as he is, Derek slips off his leather jacket and drapes it over Stiles to keep him warm. He strokes his hand through the boy's hair, massaging the scalp lightly.

"Mmm, t-that's nice," Stiles murmurs, a small, tired smile easing its way onto his face. "T-Thanks, Der."

"It's fine," Derek replies, just  _barely_ maintaining his composure. Seeing Stiles like this, with his skin so pale and body so limp, just makes him want to break down in tears.

Something that he's never felt the need to do since he lost his sister, Laura.

They sit there quietly for a few minutes, Derek stroking his hand through Stiles's hair and listening to the fluttering beat of the boy's heart, staring up at the stars and full moon that casts its light over the town below.

The silence is broken when Derek feels Stiles tense, then shift in his lap, a forced noise that sounds horribly injured escaping his throat.

Derek freezes, looks down to see Stiles's face scrunched up in pain, jaw twinging. "Stiles, what is it?" he asks worriedly, hand moving down to stroke along the boy's forehead.

"H-Hurts," is all Stiles utters out before his body is seizing up in Derek's arms, wounded cry leaving his lips in a sob. 

"Stiles,  _where_? Where does it hurt?  _Stiles_!" Derek feels his resolve slipping, and it is all but gone by the time another horrendous cry of agony finds its way out of Stiles's shuddering body.

"Make it s-stop, Der! Please, Der, make it  _stop_!" Stiles sobs, twisting violently in Derek's arm, back arching upward. " _Make it stop_!"

"I—I, I can try," he chokes.

Derek grips the boy's arm, closing his eyes as he lets his body leech the pain from his mate, spidery black veins travelling up his arm, seeping ounce by ounce from Stiles's body and drawing it into his own. He gasps, eyes flying open when he feels it.

_Stiles's pain_ _._

It's like wolfsbane running through his veins, hot and sizzling. His whole body feels like it's on fire, engulfed in intense, raging heat. Sharp rips of pain are  _everywhere_ and they only get  _worse_ , not stopping but striking  _again_ and _again_.

" _Fuck_ ," he grunts, breathing through clenched teeth, eyes flashing from the intensity as he continues to absorb the pain, thread by thread.

He can feel Stiles's body ease up, becoming less tense and more limp.

A few more seconds later the boy's breath isn't as harsh and panted, slowly starting to whistle down to a regular pace.

"D-Der… pain… s'gone," Stiles says quietly.

"That, that's good, Stiles," Derek replies, voice wavering as he lets the last tendril of pain travel through his veins, the burn nothing now but a numbing heat in his bones.

"T-Thank you," Stiles whispers softly, hand moving to grip lightly at Derek's arm that's taking his pain. "Y-You're the best."

Derek lets out a mirthless chuckle. Even given the completely dire circumstances, Stiles can still bring out something in him. "Don't worry about it. You needed it." He waves off the compliment, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead.

"Well, t-thanks anyway." Stiles smiles. "I—I think I can—"

Derek hears the instant Stiles's heartbeat skips a beat, stuttering dramatically. Stiles must realise it too because this  _look_ passes over his features, before his smile morphs into something a little dopier.

"N-N-No," he says, voice shaking. "Stiles, no."

"D-Derek, this, this is it," Stiles whispers, voice deadly soft. He looks up at the stars, and Derek watches how the moonlight makes his eyes shine like molten gold.

Molten gold that is  _dying_ , dimming out…

"Stiles, don't… don't leave me. P-Please," he chokes, squeezing the boy's hand. Stiles just continues smiling his dopey smile, eyelids fluttering.

"I c-can't, m'sorry," he slurs tiredly. "It's my t-time, Der."

Derek hears again as his mate's heartbeat skips another beat, resumes again,  _thump thumps_ slower than they'd been a few seconds ago.

"You… ya know." Stiles blinks up at him, feebly trying to keep his eyes open enough so he can see Derek's face. "M'gonna miss you, sourwolf."

This time, Derek doesn't let the tears stay stored away. They run down his face relentlessly, rivets of salty tears that drip down his chin, try to cling to his stubble but end up splattering in small droplets on Stiles's paling skin. A sob tears free from his throat, small and broken.

"Hey, hey, no cryin'," Stiles admonishes softly. "Crying's for babies. You… you're an alpha, Der. Alphas don't cry."

Derek laughs weakly. "Y-Yeah, they do, when they're losing the one thing that they care about," he sniffles, swallowing around the huge lump that has taken itself to constricting his speech.

"Well, m'flattered," Stiles chuckles, though it's more of a rasp that bubbles in his chest.

Another skip sounds in Stiles's heartbeat, this time even longer—the  _thump thumps_ are only appearing every ten seconds now, getting slower…

"I'm not," Derek whimpers, gasping out shaken stammering breaths. "I'm not going to be able to live without you, Stiles."

"Sure you can, s'not so hard," Stiles says, tone soft and chirpy but still implying that deep, deep down he  _knows_ how much this is hurting Derek.

Stiles's heartbeat is slowing dramatically, and the  _thump thumps_  sound like they're having trouble with continuing, vainly struggling to keep the blood pumping.

"I love you," Derek whispers, leaning down to press his lips against Stiles's, mouth moving languidly against one that tries its hardest to return the notion.

_Thump… thump…_

"I love you, too," Stiles says softly, so full of  _love_ that everything inside Derek aches with it, his breath puffing out in a shallow huff of air against Derek's lips.

_Thump… thump…_

Derek presses his lips again gently, once more, over Stiles's, closing his eyes and mesmerising the feel of his mate's soft flesh covering his own. 

For the last time.

_Thump…_

"Rest, Stiles. Just… j-just rest."

_Tha—thump…_

When Derek moves back and opens his eyes, his mate is gone, eyes closed with the most serene, peaceful look on his face, heartbeat silent and last breath just a lonely whisper on the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> *holds out tissues*
> 
> Anyone?
> 
> *takes some*
> 
> I think I need 'em… such a horrible person I am :(


End file.
